Scoppio. Imploderò se le prossime sei ore non trascorreranno veloci veloci. Alle venti di stasera il boom. L’esplosione.

Quello che da tre mesi non dico, non mostro, verrà fuori. Ho tenuto il segreto della strepitosa commedia che sto per interpretare e del personaggio unico e strabordante che devo incarnare.

Lo spettacolo è Gratta&Vinci e le allegre comari e andrà in scena stasera in anteprima per gli addetti ai lavori e domenica in prima assoluta al Teatro la Maschera di San Sperate alle 19 nella rassegna Tagli di Teatro

Non ce la faccio più!

Schade, das war eine schöne Zeit für uns. Wir haben viel erlebt mit Pia und auch viel unternommen. Kaum ist sie weg, da ist auch das Wetter schlechter. Wir freuen uns schon auf nächstes Jahr, da wird sie uns hoffentlich wieder besuchen und das vielleicht für längere Zeit. Schaun mer mal.

Dir Pia wünschen wir alles Gute und Gottes Segen. Wir sind sehr beeindruckt und stolz wie Du Dein Leben ganz alleine meisterst und die Ausbildung und alles andere so schaffst.

Bis demnächst!

Railway journeys have been essential for my professional responsibilities. Continuously for thirty five years, I have been traveling from North to South and from East to West in Pakistan. So I have been in contact with the Railway Ticket Window and the Ticket Checker only. What has been happening in other sections of the whole setup, can very well be assessed from what I have personally experienced and seen during my journeys. Following lines give a very very brief representative account of how paid employees on duty play havoc with their responsibilities. Permissiveness of irrelevant facilities without any degree of supervision and check, and over looking of small misappropriations in departments has encouraged boost of crimes and corruption in every molecule of the entire body of whole social setup. Some suggestions form part of the details below for authorities concerned.

The legal permissions of free private journeys for the railway employees continue to be misused. This sanctioned facility has given birth to countless off shoots which have been devouring the resources of the railway department very mercilessly. Not only the railway employees and their families but also the whole chains of their relatives, neighbors and relatives of neighbors and friends have been found to be managing for making use of this facility. A railway employee feels proud of offering even his least familiar friends to travel by train without ticket, advising “BUS MERA NAAM LE LENA.”

In 1962, I was proceeding to the Ticket Window at Rohri Railway Station, when a railway employee in uniform stopped me and asked me about where I was going. When I told him that I was going to purchase a first class ticket (Top Railway Class in that era) for Sukkur. He addressed me in these words: “Why waste money. Journey is short. You simply pay me half of the actual cost of the ticket and I shall manage your journey till you are out of Sukkur Railway Station”. When I refused and resumed walking towards Ticket Window, he continued walking behind me with offer of further less money in the deal. I did purchase ticket but I had been very much shocked and disturbed. It might be frivolous for some readers but due to the nature of rearing and teachings at school and college by the most responsible local and foreign teachers, of my institutions, the incidence did shock me as it was first of my long journeys from Rawalpindi.

In November 1991, I boarded the train from Rawalpindi to Sialkot. I entered the 24-Seats part of the compartment. All seats were occupied. I had to keep standing. After the train moved from Chaklala, a ticket checker entered the compartment, had a glance at the seated passengers and then asked me to show ticket. I produced the ticket which he checked. To my astonishment he started moving to other compartment without checking the seated passengers. I abruptly gripped his arm and asked him to check all the passengers. With a miserable grin he said “They are relatives of my colleague, going to a marriage party”. I still reserve my ticket of that occasion.

In 1998, on sudden death of my sister in Sialkot, I had to travel from Hyderabad with a ticket without reservation in economy class. I requested the person responsible for on spot reservation to reserve me a seat, stating the reason for my journey. The man told me that he could reserve a seat for me if I could pay him some money.

In year 2000, traveling in sleeper class from Sialkot to Lahore to Hyderabad, there were two different family groups in my cabin, consisting of two men and three women. They traveled up to Lahore and the ticket checker did not even ask them to show tickets. They must have already settled affairs mutually.

Honest citizens perhaps do not know that there is another meaning of word ‘Oblige’. It is not in dictionary. This type of ‘Oblige’ means picking pocket of some unfortunate stranger to afford financial aid to a friend. Here is how I learned this from an aged railway employee in year 2004. A group of three elderly railway employees dressed in uniform, standing in economy class near my seat, had been discussing something in Punjabi language. I was alerted to a statement by one of them. The statement was “You know, I obliged him so many times but he is utterly a thankless chap.” I was aroused by abrupt urge to interrupt asking the man about the nature of obliging his friend many times. He proudly explained that he permitted and managed his friend’s railway journeys without tickets.

I have generally seen ladies with very long ‘Tusbeeh’ moving their hand and lips silently. They always travel without ticket and nobody checks them as the ticket checkers are afraid of their curse. In all fairness, these ladies must be heavily fined and charged as they deceive God as well as people.

We have poor men hesitating to attend the funeral of their nearest relatives due to lack of money for railway journey. All Pakistanis be treated impartially. The rotten custom of “Hardships to be equally shared by all, facilities for Government and the companies’ employees only” must now be abolished.

For a poor and seriously indebted country of ours, I have never been able to understand:-

A. Unlimited free private journeys, legal or managed, by railway employees including highly paid officers, whereas our poor majority postpone or cancel journeys even for very urgent reasons.

B. Free electricity to WAPDA employees including highly paid officers.

C. Free gas to gas employees consuming precious energy ruthlessly whereas poor man hesitates even genuine consumption to avoid high bills.

D. Profuse concessions in Air tickets and number of journeys for very highly paid members of government sponsored Air Lines. I have known PIA employees weekly flying to Pakistan from Saudi Arabia, simply to buy kitchen items.

This limitless permissiveness reflects that governments have never assessed the degree of poverty and helplessness of poor lot of the country and the oft repeated boisterous statements in their favor are simply because they are the casting-vote for the power chair. We have been getting foreign loans with ever increasing interests their on and still we have permitted New York facilities to civil departments.

Let us learn to live within our means. Except for the disabled and the special persons, no free of cost facility should be permitted to anybody, who so ever. Government, semi government and even purely private bodies must see that nobody gets anything free of cost, so that every penny is accumulated for the benefits of the poors. This will definitely result in the following:-

1- A lesson to live within our own means.
2- Equal treatment for all citizens.
3- Funds for better maintenance of Railway, PIA, WAPDA and Gas companies.
4- A lesson going deep to minds to avail of a facility only on payment of cost.

Written by: Geodetic Engr. Muhammad Ashraf

_

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és 2 apartmanszobával rendelkezik.

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Vadonatúj kardiogépeinken pedig kedvükre égethetik kalóriáikat a mozogni vágyók.
A teljes körű kikapcsolódást szolárium, tapasztalt és profi masszőrök, valamint masszázsfajták széles skálája koronázza meg.

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A Hotel Villa Völgy****/*** két I. osztályú éttermében a táj jellegzetes magyar ízeit, a nemzetközi konyha remekeit ízlelheti meg.
A gyönyörű zöldövezeti rész kerti grillparty-k megrendezését is lehetővé teszi. A

Hotel Villa Völgy****/*** is rendelkezik saját, 60 fős borospincével, melyben borkóstoló, vagy borkóstolós vacsora megrendezésére is lehetőség van. Folyamatos nyitva tartás, családias légkör, nyugalom. Mindez csak Önt várja az egri bor és wellness fellegvárában!

Tehát itt voltunk :p

Péntek délelött indultunk kisebb nagyobb sikerrel, de odaértünk!
…köd akadályozott, de leküzdtük…

Elfoglaltuk a szobát és vajon mivel kezdtük ta szép hétvégénket?
Telefon kikapcsolás és a többi nem kommentárom.
Lényeg, hogy jól éreztük magunkat volt egy kis baleset is, de túl éltük.

Wellnesseztünk és pihentünk sokat és a többihez meg senkinek semmi köze!
Ohhh jeh!

…majd…

Elmentünk plázázni megnéztük milyen Egerben a pláza
Na jó csak szerettünk volna enni egy kis finom szecsuáni csirkét…

Érdemes elkészíteni nagyon nagyon finom!

Hozzávalók:
50 dkg csirkemell
10 dkg gomba
15 dkg répa
3 szál újhagyma
15 dkg zöldség
2 kis TV paprika
2 kis paradicsom
2 gerezd fokhagyma
só
fehérbors
curry
3 evőkanál szójaszósz
4 evőkanál ketchup
rizs
Elkészítés

A húst és a megtisztított zöldségeket metéltre (julienre) vágjuk, összekeverjük a fűszerekkel, fokhagymával.
Serpenyőben forró olajon hirtelen átsütjük, majd mérsékeljük a tüzet, fedő alatt 7-10 perc alatt puhára pároljuk.
Levét pótoljuk.
Végül hozzáadjuk a szójaszószt, ketchupot, és velük együtt forrósítjuk át. Rizzsel tálaljuk.
Megjegyzés

Nagyon finom és kiadós családi ebéd vagy vacsora. A rizst curry-vel vagy petrezselyemzölddel is színezhetjük.

…most térjünk csak vissza …

Aztán nézelődtünk boltról boltra mentünk…
Majd Drágám elment wc-re én addig nézelődtem majd meguntam és utána mentem csak hirtelen nem tudtam merre hogyan és  megkérdeztem a biztonsági őrtől merre van…

A párbeszéd:

-Elnézést!
-Igen? Tessék…
-Meg tudná mondani merre találhatom az illemhelyiséget?
-Micsodát?
-Illemhelyiséget…
-Az meg mi?!
-”wc”
-Jah, igen persze… Menjen egyenesen majd jobbra… stb…

Nem fűznék hozzá több kommentárt!
Aki még nem tudná:
Illemhelyiség = Wc
hihi

Jeg er vel ikke akkurat den av jentene på kullet mitt som er mest kjent for å komme stivpynta på skolen. Jeg går for det meste i skikkelig slække klær, noe jeg trives utmerket godt med. Store bukser og hettegensere er liksom min ting, og jeg føler meg tusen gang mer komfortabel med det enn med høye hæler og tynne tunikaer.

Men! Det at jeg går i store, gode bukser på skolen er definitivt ingen hindring til å bytte når jeg kommer hjem. Noe av det første jeg gjør når jeg kommer inn døra hjemme er å hive av meg buksa og slenge på meg det slækkeste av det slække: pysjbuksa. Den er myk, den er tynn, den er luftig og den er digg.

Med andre ord: den er perfekt.

Hvor mange kjenner seg igjen?

Looks like PIA and NAPL have heard the opinions expressed from their members and the printing community and have acted. This is a good move on their part and one that will hopefully lead to a combined entity. For now this step does a lot in the sense of uncovering how they can work together, assessing each groups leaderships styles when working on joint programs and eventually how one organization can run.

I certainly think it a good first step.

The below is the release we received today.

NAPL and Printing Industries of America, the two largest graphic arts trade associations in the country, are pleased to announce a formal plan to collaborate on a number of projects going forward.

The leadership of the two organizations met earlier this month in Charlotte to explore where collaboration made sense for the benefit of their collective memberships. Both associations were represented by their respective Chief Executive Officers, as well as their current and immediate past Chairmen (Michael Makin, Bill Gibson, and Ken Kaufman for Printing Industries of America, and Joseph Truncale, Keith Kemp, and Steve Johnson for NAPL).

“We are pleased with the progress we made during these discussions,” said Joseph P. Truncale, President and Chief Executive Officer of NAPL. “We were able to identify opportunities to bring greater value to our members and to the industry at large.”

“In the current economic environment, it is critical that we explore how we can work together,” added Michael Makin, President and CEO of Printing Industries of America.

Two immediate projects were identified and agreed upon.

1.) Both associations have agreed to work with their Graphic Arts Show Company partner, NPES, to develop a spring management conference beginning in 2011. This industry-wide event will combine the Printing Industries of America President’s Conference, NAPL Top Management Conference, and NPES Annual Spring Meeting into one comprehensive event that will bring together the best that each meeting has to offer. Oversight and management of the event will be shared among all three organizations through the GASC structure.

Planning for this event will commence early in 2010 and benefit from the combined efforts of each association’s professional staff and volunteer leadership. A conference steering committee will be formed to provide direction and oversight to the program planning and promotion.

“We are very excited to see this consolidation of events so that industry leaders no longer have to choose a top leadership program each year,” said Makin.

“We believe this event will be a ‘must-attend’ for all industry executives,” said Truncale.

2.) The organizations have agreed to collaborate on major issues facing the printing and graphic communications industry today, including the need to craft and communicate a positive message about print to media specifiers, educators, and legislative and regulatory bodies. While acknowledging the efforts currently being made in these areas, both organizations believe the added strength from the combined efforts of Printing Industries of America and NAPL can generate even greater results that will benefit all industry stakeholders.

The organizations will meet again in early 2010 to monitor progress on these initiatives and assess continuing discussions.

.. er foran dassen, vaskende.

Skrubb skrubb.

Neida, neida. Jeg mener selvfølgelig ikke det, jeg bare synes det er så innmari morsomt å terge på meg hardbarka feminister. Det jeg derimot virkelig mener, er at jeg trives best når det ser fint ut rundt meg. Misforstå meg rett, jeg vil ikke ha noe hjem som ser ut som noe man har funnet i et boligmagasin. I min leilighet er det veldig lov med rot, så lenge det er innenfor en viss grense. Når man kikker oppå skapet og finner aviser fra 1997 sammen med grandisen fra i forigårs har det på en måte gått for langt, men litt ymse her og litt ymse der er nettopp det som er med på å gjøre et hjem til et hjem.

Men! Tilbake til poenget: jeg liker altså å ha det fint rundt meg. For å sikre at dette opprettholdes er man dessverre nødt til å gjøre en liten innsats. Denne innsatsen finner for min og Mikkels del sted på søndag, når vi bytter på å vaske henholdsvis stua/kjøkkenet og badet. I dag var det min tur til å ta badet, så da er det ingenting annet å gjøre enn å sette i gang. Og når man først er i gang kan man liksågodt gjøre det skikkelig. Nå både lukter det godt og ikke minst ser reint ut.

Ser du, mamma? Din datter har blitt selvstendig og driver nå og vasker hver eneste uke. Det hadde du ikke trodd!

Inspired and refreshed by her rememberings as well as the beauty of the morning, Ursula knew it was time for the prosaic tasks of what an early spiritual teacher of hers had called “earth plane reality,” starting with a search through her closet. “Hmmm. Wheat color, I think, is calling.”

Perhaps the peasanty skirt and the goldy jersey top. That would work well with her dark green hooded sweater. Layers. Who knew what the weather would bring. No bra, of course. She’d given up on that third chakra energy constriction for all but the most formal occasions when she felt a need to hide her looseness or conversely wanted a little sexy pushup. If she couldn’t afford to risk other people’s judgment, who would? She did her part daily to help change that paradigm of binding up what Nature had given her. She huffed indignantly as she always did when the subject came up. And truth be told, she sometimes even let her three or four chin hairs grow too. She assumed people noticed but nobody ever commented on either unconventional practice.
Long socks? The brown ones she’d just gotten from the thrift store looked comfy and were in keeping with her earthy mood. She found her spider web earrings after a few minutes of digging in her little box. “Might as well carry that energy into the day.” The amber pendant called out to her as she moved her hands over the various necklace strands hanging from the hooks Charley had put on the wall over her bureau. Amber would help keep her spontaneous, yet calm and give energy to any manifesting she might do this day. Running the brush through her gray curls, she smiled back at her reflection with a twinkle at her wrinkles. She liked looking her age and enjoyed thinking about the fact that next year she would be turning sixty.
Glancing next at her calendar to be sure nothing had slipped off her radar screen for the day, she gathered up the things she would need at the store – an extra load of papers from the proposal draft Molly had given her to review (maybe she’d have time this afternoon to look at it), the new books she’d had at home to read, and her trusty laptop named Stella.
She usually rode her bike down to Mahonia from her perch on the Mountain when Charley had their little car, but she had decided to walk the half mile to the River Valley CarShare lot on the road to borrow the pick-up. She could then drive back up to get the recycling. The bins under the kitchen sink were overflowing so a trip to ReBound couldn’t be put off much longer and it would be nice to get a hug from Molly and see if she wanted to help lead an upcoming Women’s Medicine Circle. Communing with Demeter this morning had given Ursula an idea about a ritual.
She’d checked the night before on her computer – her RCar membership was current and the pickup was available for the whole day. She usually borrowed the truck every couple of weeks. “’Borrowed?’ Probably the proper term is ‘rented’ but it never seems like a financial transaction somehow,” especially since they’d been part of starting the arrangement as a neighborhood cooperative with a couple of people’s second vehicles. Now there was a newish Prius in their lot for longer drives and at the main lot in town one could get a van or a bigger pick-up, among other things. The little pickup in their neighborhood was old and funky but it served well for just this sort of thing. Charley had used it last week for a couple of hours to haul firewood and just yesterday she’d seen it loaded to the gills with stuff Brady’s were clearing out before their move.
“Drat them for leaving the community!” She understood why the elderly couple were going back to the city but it always hurt her heart to lose the interesting ones. “Couldn’t they see how important the work was here and how much they were needed?” Sometimes she wondered why she trusted the local medical resources as much as she did. But she just did. She sighed as she closed the door.
That little dip in her energy didn’t last long. She dodged most of the spider webs across the path to the road, noticing them all over the huge Sitka too. Goldfinches still chittered happily while the white butt of a flicker flashed away from her into the woods. A couple of jays squawked at her in their distinctive voices so she hollered back.
“It’s an interesting neighborhood,” Ursula thought for the umpteenth time as she walked on down the hill. There were still a few houses not actually lived in, some of which were used regularly, either as second homes by those still able to afford such things, or as short-term rentals. Some were B & B’s. There had been a fuss early on about the latter practices, but she had always maintained that it was more neighborhood-friendly to have the houses used and certainly better than a lot of motels in town.
She waved to the elderly Crowes out on their deck, who, like many, had divided up their large home, converting it into what was officially an “accessory dwelling unit,” taking advantage of the Utility District’s grant program as well as state tax credits to do energy conservation retrofits. They now rented affordably to a young couple who could keep an eye on them. Ursula wondered when it would be time for her and Charley to downsize in some way from the space they’d needed with a big family.
As she walked past the spring she realized there was another reason to use the car this morning. She needed to remember to pick up the empty gallon jars for refill. She and Charley had been using the spring for a long time but it was only in the last couple of years that it had gotten more general use after it had been decorated into a community shrine. There was often a car at the pull-off as more and more people realized that the federally mandated chemicals weren’t good for their bodies. There was nothing like the lively chi in the water coming right out of the Mountain. Charley and Owen had piled stones in a cairn up around the copper pipe streaming water. Someone had added a green water sprite figure and tucked a few crystals into little niches. Watercress grew in the run off. She might as well pick some for tonight’s salad while she was there.

Arriving at ReBound, Ursula eased the battered RCar pickup into one of the parking spaces in front of the green bins lined up under the signs for various recycling categories. It wasn’t always easy to get a spot this close but she’d lucked out today. As usual, before she attended to the overflowing cardboard boxes she’d brought with her, she did a quick scan of the yard to see what was going on.
A volunteer whose name she couldn’t remember was busy explaining the difference between gray board and corrugated cardboard to a well-dressed woman who had obviously never been there before, while a young boy of seven or eight was showing his grandmother where to put the egg cartons so families with chickens could pick them up. Must be a day off from school. She waved to two friends who were having a heated conversation in front of the aluminum bins and smiled at Jake who was getting ready to empty the plastics milk jug tote.
Looking further down the recycle line she caught sight of Molly with her arm around the shoulders of an older woman looking together at a photo or clipping of some sort. As she watched, the woman was enfolded in Molly’s arms for a long minute and then beaming went inside the resale store while Molly picked up speed and headed the opposite direction towards the trash dumpster. On the way there she gave a thumbs up to a man loading a pile of folding chairs into a pick-up and patted the shoulder of another who was tinkering with a mysterious metal contraption as if it might be made to take off any moment.
Ursula chuckled as she saw that the purpose of Molly’s beeline was to greet Pia who had just finished tipping her trashcan into the dumpster. Molly’s short, round figure in plaid shirt and dirty jeans, enveloped the taller, thinner Pia with her unruly mop of dark curls, purple velour harem pants and swirling orange poncho. It was delightful – actually made her full of light – to watch the connection of the two, and of course Ursula couldn’t resist joining them.
“Hey, let me in on this!” she chimed.
“Look who the bear dragged in,” teased Pia as Molly laughed and they both opened their arms to include Ursula in their embrace.
Pia ducked a little so their boobs and bellies lined up and they swayed together feeling the energy swirling sweetly between them. Long years of tears and triumphs in various organizational endeavors, agonies over children’s troubles, laughter over mates’ foibles, they’d seen each other through a lot. They’d had some awful fights among themselves too and it all added up to a very special intimacy that tingled between their bodies now.
Ursula was the first to break the spell, the story of her morning bursting within her. Pulling back a little, though still entwined, she told the others about the spiders’ magic and her connection with Demeter.
“So I was thinking that maybe we could do the Women’s Medicine Circle next Friday evening on the mothering of adult children. In honor of Demeter.”
“Goddess knows we all need help with that one,” agreed Molly.
“It might give the young ones some perspective on our dilemmas of the boundaries between parental involvement and non-involvement…” Ursula’s voice tailed off as images of her kids flashed in her head.
“Send money or not,” said Pia.
“Butt in or not,” added Molly.
“I was thinking we could have us older women be Demeter and the younger ones Persephone.”
“Cool – maybe line up in two rows facing each other and each call out our fears and joys about separations past and future.”
“And about the losses of the season.”
“I’ve got grasses for the Demeters to hold,” said Pia.
“Good, cause I don’t really want to cut mine. Could we get pomegranates for the Persephones?” said Ursula. “I’m not quite sure how we’d use them but I’m remembering that in the Greek story, Persephone was fated to return to the Underworld every year because she had eaten one pomegranate seed.”
“I wonder how we could adapt that so the return each year was less a consequence of that and more because of Persephone’s love of the dark lord and his realm. And to help all us mom’s deal with that her responding to a call we don’t quite understand.”
“I’ll bring my flute,” said Pia. “Maybe pipe the young ones off?”
They were still scheming when a voice called out from across the way, “Molllllleeee.” They looked up to see a figure wagging thumb to mouth and little finger to the ear in the universal telephone symbol.
“Looks like I’ve got a phone call,” said Molly. “Gotta run. I’ll provide the pomegranates and think of how we might use them in a new way. Can one of you put out an email?”
“Sure thing, sweetie,” said Ursula. “We’ll cover what we think of and the rest can be improvised.”
“I’m glad serendipity and our brainstorming skills are working as usual today,” said Pia. “This will be good for all of us.”
“Oops, I forgot all about my recycling and I’ve left the RCar pickup in front of the bins, said Ursula. “I’d better unload and head back to town to open Bear Essentials.”
“But where shall we meet?” asked Pia.
“Didn’t we say last time it was my turn to do it? I’ll check with Charley and be sure the men are meeting somewhere else.”
“I just saw a cool cornucopia basket inside. I’ll go get it and send out the email announcing our theme. Let me know if you think of anything else we need. Seems like it’s time for another energy cleansing here. I’m feeling some sticky goop around the various drop off bins especially for the resale store. I’ll ask Molly if she’s ready to have us up again.” The two gave each other another quick hug as they parted.

Once parked in town, Ursula shlepped her stuff into the store, the smell of sage and lavender enveloping her as she opened the back door. Cindy’s new sachets and eye pillows seemed especially potent this year. The sage had come from some folks passing through.
Bear Essentials was Ursula’s storefront in Mahonia, started as a resource for the area’s burgeoning spiritual community. She stocked an assortment of spiritually oriented books and included a book rental service as well to encourage exploration of genres and authors they might not have been willing to try otherwise. Until recently the local library didn’t have as many woo woo books as some of them had wished and she and Charley had gotten tired of the space their own extensive collection took up in the house. Bringing them down where they were more available and where loans could be tracked and replaced if lost had worked out nicely. She also rented spiritual videos and dvd’s. She rounded out the inventory with magical paraphernalia – crystals and stones, figurines, tarot and other card decks, smudge sticks, a little ceremonial clothing and some pretty gee gaws. She rarely bought stuff new unless it was locally made, preferring to rely on things others wanted to sell. ReBound had done such a great job of accustoming locals to passing on things they no longer wanted. Now they just brought this New Age sort of stuff to her to sell – often on consignment.
The store had a south facing back room looking out on a little fenced in garden where she could do her tarot readings and which she rented out from time to time on an hourly basis to others wanting to give psychic readings or do healings of various sorts. Several successful locals had gotten their start in her backroom and then moved on to storefronts of their own. She and others in the Healers Guild had worked hard so that the town had become rather a Mecca for city folk wanting to re-treat, re-group, re-generate and re-create here by the Pacific.
She settled her armloads of stuff and opened the front door. The shrine just outside between the building and the sidewalk was an eclectic collection of little things around the three foot high carved wooden bear that she had commissioned from Arlo. People were always adding or taking away stones, sand dollars, feathers and the like. She smiled to see the bouquet of lilies and a plastic leprechaun someone had left since yesterday afternoon. Rubbing Bear’s head affectionately, she placed the wild grasses behind him and said a sympathetic prayer for Demeter, soon to be childless again until Spring’s return, and sent a plea that the upcoming ritual would ease her own motherly pangs – and perhaps Demeter’s as well. Of course, in a tourist town they all lost something to the year’s turn towards coming Autumnal season, though if one was going to thrive here they had to also, like Ursula, enjoy to the intense rains that called for cozy indoors time.
Turning to go back in she flipped her open sign outward. It sported the Charles Schultz cartoon of Lucy at her consulting booth with the sign, “The Witch is in.” Indeed.

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Waiting for a Part of History

Thanks to Yael for being the first and so far only person to send me the link to a particular song.  As a way to preempt further references, by myself or any others, you get this title. Once.

I am indeed packing – for a Wednesday departure!  I’ll be beating President Obama to Seoul by a few days and am quite sure I’ll get a better sense of the city from a tour by fellow PiAer Andrew than from some “bilateral meeting.”  If you expected the political nerdiness to stop because I’m moving to another country,  sorry to disappoint.  The Princeton in Asia Fellows already in Asia aren’t disappointing in their awesomeness though, so I already feel welcome.

On the photo: I cleared out the pictures from my cell phone today, including this one of the line in CVS on the day after the election, in the evening.  Everyone was waiting to get their commemorative reprint of the Washington Post.  As I spent some quality time in CVS again today stocking up on essentials for the trip and as I plan to make my next post about what I’ll miss most in DC (in a good way, not a sad way!), I thought it was particularly appropriate.

Na hora que a coisa apertava, que a vida ficava difícil em Moçambique, quando até uma promessa de qualquer coisa faltava ali naquele verdadeiro primeiro mundo humano, sempre aparecia um inglês pra falar T.I.A., This Is Africa. Mas a África era muito mais do que essas três letrinhas e aquele desdém de um inglês avermelhado. A África também era a casa do Dario, bem pintada, com ar-condicionado, numa rua pavimentada, de uma grande metrópole. Mas não qualquer metrópole, era Maputo e aquele meu sotaque carioca me deixava envergonhado, era abrir a boca pra virem as risadas. Peraí vocês! esse sotaque arrevesado de português é que faz parte da piada. Mas ali não, ali eu era a piada. Na sala da casa, tomando um vinho, minha mãe falava com o pai do Dario sobre um tal Levi Strauss que tinha dito que os trópicos eram tristes! Pra mim era o melhor lugar do mundo. O Dario concordava e ainda achava engraçado. Pediu umas 15 vezes pra eu repetir a escalação do Flamengo campeão brasileiro de 1992. Na ponta da língua, com orgulho, quantas vezes quiser! Gilmar, Charles Guerreiro, Gotardo, Júnior Baiano e Piá; Fabinho, Uidemar, Júnior e Zinho; Julio César e Gaucho! Mas na verdade acho que todos só ouviam até o Piá e começavam a rir pedindo pra que eu falasse de novo. E Piá é nome de gente ou de bicho? Piá é o dono da camisa quatro do Flamengo, campeão brasileiro, essa que eu to usando. E o Dario dava de ombros e chutava a bola com força. Agarra essa, Piá! Não fazia muito sentido ser Flamengo e campeão Brasileiro em Moçambique, mas era divertido jogar bola num final de tarde despretensioso numa rua qualquer do mundo e descobrir que Piá era motivo de tanta risada. Quando a chuva veio forte todo mundo correu pra dentro da casa. O cachorro molhado se chacoalhou no meio da sala inundando o tapete, isso é motivo de risada em qualquer lugar do mundo. O Dario também tinha um Nintendo, e o dele era um daqueles originais, não os Phantom Systems que se multiplicavam no Brasil. Ele tinha um Nintendo com Mário Bros. 1, o que nós transformou em irmãos de alma! Carrega no botão Piá. Carregar pra onde?! E mais risadas explodiam pelo quarto. Como é que tu vais ligar o vídeo-jogo sem carregar no botão, Piá!?  Eu e o Dario sabíamos onde estava o cogumelo escondido da primeira fase, em qual cano entrar pra levar o Mário pro mundo subterrâneo, em que quadrado de tijolo estava escondida a estrelinha de super poderes e sabíamos juntos a frase do final de cada fase: Thank you Mario, but your princess is in another castell. Na casa do Dario, jogando Mario bros. 1, era como estar em todo lugar do mundo ao mesmo tempo. A noite foi caindo e minha mãe e a mãe do Dario chegaram na porta do quarto naquele gesto de acabou a festa. O Domingos me daria a camisa do Piá se eu pedisse? Você vai torcer pelo Flamengo? Flamengo até morrer! Trocamos as camisas como no final de uma copa do mundo. O Dario vestiu a camisa quatro do Flamengo e como um bom filho de antropólogo disse: kanimambo! quer dizer obrigado em Changane, é uma língua de antes dos portugueses chegarem. Eu ri bastante.Vocês ainda falam língua de índio aqui? E minha mãe interrompeu, você também fala, Piá! Isso quer dizer menino em Guarani, sabia meu piazinho?! Rimos todos juntos e eu abracei o Dario, vestindo aquela camisa do Flamengo campeão brasileiro, ali em Moçambique. T.I.A. This is Africa.

Tankcsapda koncert lesz!

Dorogi Művelődési ház
Kezdés: 19:00

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és még…

Merre van Dorog?
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Szeretettel várunk mindenkit!

By:    Javed

In order to get not merely more remittances but also to fetch the Overseas Pakistanis (Ops) savings abroad, the Governments for the last 10 years every six month or so announce this scheme or that scheme but the results are never nearer to the desired level. No doubt the figures of remittances must have increased credit of which the Governments take nevertheless it is a fact that this increase is more due to exchange rates and secondly that from Middle East for the last some years a good number of expatriates are being sent back who then take their gratuity or end of service benefits with them.  The ever increasing cost of living in Pakistan has contributed in this increase of remittances received as the OPs are under constant pressure by their families to send more as the previous sent does not cover the full month expenditure. The government files may be showing that number of out flow of Pakistani workers is increasing due to efforts of the Government nevertheless the true fact which every Pakistani living in Middle East can verify is that the number of Pakistanis in Middle East is on decrease while Bangladeshi are increasing today even on Indians who previously affected Pakistani manpower. All schemes of the Government in the name of new incentives or speedy to speedier delivery of remittances are mostly paper worth. The US Ambassador in Pakistan a few years back in a speech quoted a figure how many billions Pakistanis had abroad which if brought back all international loans of Pakistan get re-paid back. Pakistanis are very patriotic people.  For the country they are always ready to sacrifice but it is a fact today it is hard to en-cash fully their such feelings today.  OPs will I am confident shower their savings even without asking for any interest on those provided however for example they are fully confident that their this hard earned money will not be spent on full load of Umrah flights. They are not now going to trust on any words of mouth. This is what the Americans have in Kery Lugar Bill in indirect words ensured. Seeing the affairs of the country being run during the last 6-7 years, how our elite is fetching out their monies abroad, today a tendency has erupted in OPs that while leaving for Pakistan for good, they leave their savings in Banks where they had been serving and withdrawn what they need through modern banking in Pakistan.  Last week a news paper disclosed how much tax General Musharraaf  and some other industrialist politicians etc paid.  Seeing those figures I was wondering I was paying double than that while I myself was a OP on a clerical office seat. 

The remittances would today increase only through practical incentives not incentives like that OPs will be given VIP treatment on arrival at airports,  OPs are the real ambassadors etc. These have no values in the eyes of OPs today as they do not want any VIP treatment but just a normal glass of water at airports which is not available despite paying about Rs. 6000 plus travel taxes.  At present the only practical incentive for an OP is a Rs. 2000/- free Passport in 5 years on remitting Rs. 150,000 in a year meaning Rs. 400/- a year incentive.  There are many ways for alluring OPs and for one I suggest that concerned authorities may prescribe that anyone who sends by legal channel a sum of Rs. 200,000 in a year gets extra 10 kgs baggage allowance on travel by PIA.  An orange stolen or plucked from the garden away from the eyes of the gardener is more tasty than the 6 purchased from the shop. It is a proved thing that today supermarkets all over word attract more customer, increase their incomes by offering “Buy this Get free that” whereas that free offered item always is hardly of any worth or is just expiring.  For this “free incentive” not merely the Pakistan banks abroad/country will benefit but PIA will also fetch load of customers.  Many such schemes without loosing much but fetching larger gains can be introduced but the fact is the hidden un-named invisible forces would not like schemes like these because it adversely affects the Hundi.  As such  then how the eg  the Minister recently alleged  by British authorities involved in money laundering hundi through his exchange company or Kalia will be able to serve the big fish sending their monies abroad illegally     

Foto di prova dello spettacolo

Gratta&Vinci e le allegre comari

regia di Enzo Parodo

con: Fulvia Ibba, Anna Pia, Ida Pillittu, Massimo Muscas, Gina Porcu, Andrea Ibba Monni

produzione Cooperativa Teatro la Maschera

DOMENICA 29 NOVEMBRE 2009 ALLE ORE 21

A veces, quisiera no sentir lo que siente por ese alguien que no le corresponde, cuando menos no como a ella le gustaría. Quisiera sentirse contenta de verlo contento… compartir su alegría, pero ella bien sabe que no es así.

Otras veces, quisiera gritarle a los 4 vientos cómo se siente… gritárselo a él, decirle cómo lo ve… pero no puede. No puede perder lo que sí tiene… una linda amistad.

Hay días –como hoy- en los que se pregunta si podrá seguir así… viéndolo, conociéndolo cada día un poco más, compartiéndole un pedacito de ella cada que están juntos; despertando y alentando sentimientos en ella que no la van a llevar a ningún lugar… por lo menos no al que ella quiere.

Se emociona cuando alguien los confunde con una pareja y aunque se hace la desentendida, por dentro sonríe y brinca de felicidad por pensar que pudiera ser cierto –algún día-. No pierde la esperanza de que él en algún momento voltee y la mire… que se de cuenta que es con ella con quien quiere estar, pero –hasta el momento- únicamente sucede en su mente de fantasía.

Se enoja, se desespera y dice una y otra vez que cortará por lo sano –ahora que puede-, pero bien sabe que es demasiado tarde para esto. Se siente adentro, metida hasta las narices y la verdad es que no se quiere salir… quiere seguir ahí, como su amiga, porque es el único rol que puede tener –por ahora- en su vida.

Se recrimina una y mil veces por qué se puso ahí… cómo fue que nuevamente terminó en ese lugar… ese lugar que tanto le molesta, pero que al mismo tiempo le queda cómodo. Por alguna extraña razón –que todavía desconoce- sus relaciones tienen un ciclo más o menos así:

1.- Chico conoce Chica

2.- Chico y Chica salen y parece que todo va viento en popa

3.- Chico de pronto sin más ni más – cuando Chica cree que van de maravilla-  da un paso atrás  y la sorprende con alguna de estas opciones:

          a) está casado

          b) tiene una ex – mujer (ex – novia) de pesadilla

          c) tiene un hijo y no está emocionalmente disponible

          d) se hace novio de alguien más

4.- Chica para este momento, ya está enamorada y decide quedarse a pesar de todo. Se hace su amiga

5.- Chico y Chica tienen una linda amistad. Se ven seguido, se vuelven confidentes, son muy cercanos el uno del otro.

6.- En algún punto de la amistad, sin planearlo del todo, Chico y Chica se olvidan del límite físico –existente en todas las amistades- y juntan sus cuerpos.

7.- Chica pasa de categoría de “mejor amiga” a “amiguita”.

8.- Chica sufre desconsoladamente porque no le dan el lugar que ella cree que tiene, el de “novia”. No se quita, porque si de aguantar se trata… ella es MUY aguantadora. Sufre y aguanta, a veces muy paciente y otras no tanto. Chica –abnegada y amorosamente- espera el momento en que Chico se de cuenta que la ama de verdad.

9.- Chico se harta de que Chica le exija cosas.

10.- Chica sigue sufriendo, pero se harta de esperar a Chico. Se da cuenta que ha cometido un error y que Chico nunca le va a dar el lugar que ella quiere.

11.- Chico y Chica se dejan.

Pía dice que está harta de esta situación y aunque la vida –ayudada por ella- la puso de nuevo en un lugar  parecido, esta vez quiere hacer algo diferente.

En esta ocasión está intentando –sinceramente- ser sólo su amiga, hasta ha salido con otros chicos. Intenta guardar una distancia física y emocional y aunque, por supuesto, hay veces en que se emociona de más, vuelve a tomar su distancia.

Lo más importante de todo, es que esta vez ella no ha tomado –ni pretende hacerlo- iniciativa alguna; respeta los tiempos y los límites de él, así como los suyos, tratando de encontrar un punto medio donde los dos se sientan cómodos.  Así es que, sólo la vida sabe qué pasará, pero esta vez, cuando menos, se lo está tomando con calma y disfrutando –casi siempre- el proceso de tener un nuevo amigo –y nada más-.

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2NE1

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Antic Cafe

Anyband

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Asian Kung-Fu Generation (Ajikan)

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Baek JiYoung

Beat Crusaders

Berryz Kobou

Big Bang

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Chaeyeon

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G-Dragon (Big Bang)

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YUI

Holding hands, Pia Rosen and her partner Raven walked slowly up the hill from the cluster of houses on Elk Ridge, their black mutt Yew dancing beside them. They could hear Alex out taking his turn at feeding the goats and chickens they all shared. Children’s voices chattered like birds from the community garden where Fern was directing her daughter Anise and friends (probably August, and Robin Logan’s daughter, Otter) picking the last of the peas. Someone was playing the piano at Zimmer’s. It was late afternoon.

They stopped for a minute where the road forked and looked back at their neighborhood. The shingled houses were particularly beautiful from this vantage point, their differently painted window frames providing a separate character to each façade. One house had a window box full of scarlet geraniums and Robin had hung a turquoise silk banner. The fences separating them were covered variously with grape vines, wisteria and sunflowers. The fences, some with finely carved or painted gates, served to keep the elk and deer out of the inner common space that was the main garden as well as a grassy play and cookout area.

A couple of garages punctuated this upper side of the built area, but most were unseen down along Alder Street. Not that everyone had cars in those garages. Raven used theirs for his trash art studio (he also had space at ReBound where he kept most of his gleanings) and another was still overflowing with stuff from the couple’s downsizing move into the neighborhood. Pia and Raven actually had a car they parked on the road and so did the Zimmers, but others relied on the two RCar vehicles – a pick-up and a battered sedan – to get around. Or they walked. Fern worked at Head Start just down the hill and Allison Parker waitressed at Angel’s Restaurant a few blocks away. Many of the residents had home businesses – web work, various telecommuting jobs, even a massage therapist. The houses’ flexible configurations made that possible.

From this vantage point, Pia and Raven could see out over the houses and alder trees towards the public elementary school, the Community Center and the post office in the town of Nekelew itself. Nekelew – Place of the Salmon. Further down was the River and the highway through town but it wasn’t visible from here. Across the River were the dairy farms that were increasingly being converted to organic production of fruit, meat and vegetables. Out past the fields rose the mountains that bounded the whole valley to the East.

The land itself, ten acres, was owned by the Housing Trust and included a couple of flexible multi family houses as well as small places, some of which were owned by the Trust and rented very affordably. Others were owned by the occupants and could only be sold to other lower income folks under certain strict conditions, typical of community land trusts. The specially designed modular houses with panels manufactured elsewhere, had been finished off by occupants and volunteers under a government self help program. A large house across the street, bought recently by the Housing Trust with funds from local investors, had been turned into one of a growing number of Elder Homes – this one named Filbert House.

Pia and Raven had been some of the founding members of the little neighborhood development and had worked hard on the design and process of making it all happen, including dealing with local politics since not everyone in the broader community had been excited by the prospect of the unusual development. They still worked hard. There were always improvements and repairs to be made and the on-going dynamics of a collaborative, co-housing community to be maintained.

They loved this walk looking out over the hum of the neighborhood. If they went up towards the top of the ridge property they’d be able to see out over the Logan’s forestry preserve to the Mountain gracing the north. Instead, they turned this evening towards the tiny path that led into The Ravine, the forested area that had been left undeveloped on the property. Once through the finely crafted wrought iron archway, the giant Sitka, cedar and hemlock seemed to welcome them as they headed down the gentle slope. Huge ferns, salal, elderberry and huckleberry lined the main path that was barely two people wide. In the spring the area was dotted with fern lilies, trillium and oxalis. Occasional little side paths created by the animals or exploring children veered off into the underbrush, the children, no doubt attracted by the ancient stumps they could play in or towards the trickle of a tiny stream at the bottom of the ravine.

“I do so love the red elderberry,” Pia broke the silence of their stroll. “I love it that they’re so hard to kill off. It feels like the old stalks are the great-grandparents with the newer generations growing up out of them, year by year. I love it that our micro-community encompasses the different generations the same way the elderberry does. It’s more like olden times than the recent separated, segregated patterns of our culture. Sometimes it seems like I can’t wait til the blossoms come in the spring. Remember that essence Owen made last year that tasted so sweet?!”

“It was delicious,” agreed Raven. “Maybe next spring I’ll finally get around to experimenting with cooking these red ones up and do that winemaking too. Though I’m glad that the folks at the Locovore Center planted the black and blue varieties so we can have medicinal syrups and such. It is such a powerful plant.”

“Yum, look the huckleberries are still ripe, said Pia. “Maybe we can inspire the kids to come pick some if we promise pancakes at the next communal Sunday breakfast.”

“Hey, Yew,” Raven called for his dog who had headed off into the bushes. “Shall we follow the path through to the Conservancy Trust’s wetlands?”

“I don’t feel like going that far. If we go via Commons, I can pick up the load from the dryer that Allison asked me to get for her. I’m glad I remembered.”

“And I can check on the wood supply. Did I tell you that the Mixed Medicine Circle will be held there next week?”

“Oh good. I love it when we can be out on the deck overlooking this wonderful spot. Maybe the weather will hold. Or not.”

“It seems like the Zimmer’s mother is adjusting well to her move into their granny flat,” said Raven.

“Maybe it was her playing the piano just now. It’s good that we have space for her to live here. I’m going to invite her to help serve at the next potluck.”

As they neared the top of the hill where the Commons building perched on the edge of the ravine, they chuckled together to hear the drums in use, a rather cacophonous din that was probably Orca, Summer and the other teens blowing off steam.

“It does my heart good to hear those kids go at it. Let’s remember to ask Arlo to come by to give them a little instruction,” said Pia thinking proudly of her son’s touring success up and down the coast with his African drumming troupe.

“And Gabe to add some Middle Eastern rhythms to their repertoire.”

“It’s all good,” they said in unison with a long hug to celebrate their good fortune for landing in this place and finding each other.